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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417230">Dear Brother</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogasu_jiyu/pseuds/kogasu_jiyu'>kogasu_jiyu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:01:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26417230</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogasu_jiyu/pseuds/kogasu_jiyu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Osamu Miya’s funeral, where he was found dead in his own home by his beloved twin, Atsumu Miya.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dear Brother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m sorry.” Atsumu cried.<br/><br/></p><p>It was ugly, seeing the usually upbeat and snarky second year suddenly start bawling like a baby, down on his knees in front of a stone shrine. <br/><br/></p><p>Well, what was he supposed to do?</p><p>He had just lost his twin brother. </p><p>
  <em> <strike>osamu</strike> </em>
</p><p>“He lived a good life, playing volleyball with you.” his grandmother said consolingly, patting him on the back as he sobbed. <br/><br/></p><p>Osamu’s framed picture was on top of the shrine, surrounded by chrysanthemums—colors ranging from sakura-pink to blood red. To the left to his picture was a small candle, and to the right was a small plate of onigiri. <br/><br/>Osamu’s favorite. </p><p>
  <strike> <em>mine</em> </strike>
</p><p>Atsumu wailed again as he looked up at the picture, snot dripping down his nose and tears spilling down his face. <br/><br/></p><p>“What the hell, ‘Samu...” Atsumu sniffed, wiping his tears away for the umpteenth time. His eyes were red and puffy, and his hair was messy and unkempt. “You were supposed to grow old with me! So you could laugh in my face when you tell me that you were m-more successful...I’m sorry...”</p><p>Atsumu sobbed, hiccuping between words to regain his breath. “I’ll succeed for the both of us...I’ll become the greatest setter in the world, and when I play, I’ll thank you after every match. I’ll come here and tell you how the game was. I’ll never, <em>ever </em>forget you...”</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>lies</em>
  </strike>
</p><p>All his grandmother could do was try to console him, patting him on the back gently. <br/><br/></p><p>Atsumu turned around slowly as he heard footsteps, and he saw his captain with a bouquet of flowers. <br/><br/></p><p>“We came here as fast as we could.” Kita panted, sitting down next to Atsumu. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>”Just breathe, Atsumu.” Suna consoled, rubbing his back. “It’s okay. We’re here.”</p><p>”I’m sorry for calling you guys all of a sudden.” Atsumu whispered, looking down at the floor. “I just thought ‘Samu would want to see you.”</p><p>”Don’t be sorry.” Aran said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “The others are on their way, they’ll be here soon.”</p><p>”Others...?”</p><p>”The rest of Inarizaki. Osamu may have actually been your family by blood, but we all cherish Osamu as if he were <em>our </em>family.” Kita explained, placing his flowers by Osamu’s picture. </p><p>”Do you know what happened?” Suna asked, and Kita gave him a dirty look. <br/><br/></p><p>“I...I found him. Dead. On the floor...when I got home...I...I’m so sorry...” Atsumu whimpered, shaking and gripping his hair in his hands. “I’m so, so sorry...”</p><p>
  <em> <strike>sorry</strike> </em>
</p><p>”It’s not your fault.” Kita whispered, bowing his head to Osamu’s grave. “Please don’t think that.” Then he turned to Suna. “Don’t ask him until he’s okay. He’s going through a tough time, and I don’t want him to have to explain what happened.”</p><p>Atsumu smiled. “Thanks, Kita-san.”<br/><br/></p><p>”Are you Atsumu’s friends?” his grandmother asked, walking up to them with a sad smile on her face. “It’s so nice to meet you.”</p><p>”Likewise, Miss. I’m Kita Shinsuke, Atsumu’s volleyball team captain.” Kita introduced himself, cupping the woman’s hands. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”</p><p>”You’re such a sweetie.” his grandmother cooed, and Kita blushed. </p><p>“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Atsumu said, trembling as he stood up from his knees being in a sitting position for so long. <br/><br/></p><p>“We understand. When you come out, we’ll pray together.” Aran assured, and Atsumu walked to the men’s room.</p><p>He slowly opened the door, then leaned against the sink.</p><p>He rinsed his face, staring into the mirror.</p><p>Dead eyes reflected back.</p><p>
  <em>What was he doing?</em>
</p><p>He rinsed his hands in the sink—</p><p>
  <strike> <em>the blood came right off</em> </strike>
</p><p>and fixed his hair in the mirror.</p><p>
  <strike> <em>no longer silver</em> </strike>
</p><p><strike></strike>He stretched his hands out a bit—</p><p>
  <strike> <em>clutching the bat</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>”stop”</em> </strike>
</p><p>and raised his hands above his head, stretching his arms.</p><p>
  <strike> <em>“samu, what the hell?”</em> </strike>
</p><p><strike></strike> <strike> <em>the blood is on his hands</em> </strike></p><p>
  <strike> <em>eyes looking at me </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>beating his head repeatedly</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>until no longer moving</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>“no“</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>cleaning</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>killing</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>rush</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>life spilling out</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>”stop it, please”</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>blood on his shirt</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>lifeless body</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>screams</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>blood dripping from his head </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>“it hurts”</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>eyes opened </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>on my face</em> </strike>
</p><p><strike> <em>what have I done?</em> </strike> <strike></strike></p><p>
  <strike> <em>he’s on the ground</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>happy he’s dead</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>yes</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>yes</em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em>yes</em> </strike>
</p><p><strong> <em>happy i</em> </strong> <strong><em> killed him</em> </strong></p><p><strike></strike>Osamu stared into the mirror, smiling at himself.</p><p>”I’m sorry, dear brother.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This work was inspired by @indiah612 ‘s art on Instagram, she/he does a lot of graphic gore and I really loved this piece, this story doesn’t do it justice please go check it out</p></blockquote></div></div>
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